If Only
by Madlib
Summary: For the August "Five Things" Challenge - Five things Rayna wishes she hadn't said (or hadn't had to say)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Many thanks to my beta, who has expressed her wish to remain anonymous but will read this and know who she is. Her advice is invaluable. This story will be in 6 parts, to be posted shortly. Read and enjoy!

Prologue: Regret

Over the years Rayna has come to realize that no one makes the right decision every time; no one lives a perfect life. Life is inherently messy, with more than one path to the finish line, and as choices are made sometimes bridges are burned. What is done cannot be undone, no matter how many times you play it over in your head. Still, some nights she lies awake wondering if she had changed just one thing – held her tongue against the words better left unsaid, told the truth instead of the harmless white lie, followed her heart instead of her head- how it might have affected the outcome her life. Sometimes she lies awake and thinks about what might have been, all the things she wishes she hadn't _had_ to say at all. But still, she doesn't regret any decision she's made. Regrets are something you either learn to live with or choose to live without.


	2. Chapter 2

1 – 1992

The first time Rayna sees Deacon break something in a drunken rage scares her so badly that she goes to a hotel for the night. They've been living together for six months and she's seen a whole new side of him, darker and more violent than he's ever let on. Years later, she can't even remember what set him off that night. He's stayed out with the guys in the band after their show, letting her go home alone (another reason she is mad at him) and she is already curled up in bed, half-asleep (she can never fully fall asleep when she knows he's out drinking), when she hears him bang through the front door.

Their one-bedroom apartment is modest, but clean and roomy. Most importantly, it's their first home together - with old concert posters on the dining room walls and a couch with stuffing popping out of the back. She may be becoming a household name, but the designer wardrobe, stylists, and manager the label has "encouraged" her to take on eat away more of her paycheck than she ever thought possible. It's something she and Deacon fight about with increasing frequency.

She pads out to the living room in one of his old shirts, her eyes full of sleep and worry. He's already in the kitchen pulling the bottle of whiskey from its spot on the counter. "Hey babe," she says softly. He just looks at her and gulps his whiskey from a dirty glass he finds by the side of the sink. "Did you drive home?" she asks, concern laced with the anger bubbling up from the pit of her stomach. She hasn't moved from her spot by the bedroom door.

"Leave it, Ray," he warns.

"Babe, you could have called me, you know that," she reminds him, her tone gentle but her eyes fiery. "You _should_ have called me."

"I'm fine, Ray," he scoffs and brings the bottle into living room with him, the glass long forgotten.

"How much have you had to drink?" It's the wrong question to ask because she already knows the answer and she won't admit to herself that she asks it because she wants to rile him up, wants him to see how angry she is, wants him to see how much this hurts her.

"You keeping tabs on me now? You my momma?" he spits, sitting on the couch. She doesn't approach him. "Gotta call my mommy to come pick me up and bring me home to this rat-infested, shithole apartment? Come sleep on my Salvation Army sofa with my fucking Goodwill coffee table?" he is all-out yelling now.

"Deacon, calm down," she pleads. This side of him scares her. "Come to bed," she implores. But he just stands up, wide eyes and grabs the nearest object – the dingy lamp on the end table.

"Why, Ray, you afraid I'm going to damage your precious furniture?" he asks before hurling the lamp toward the front door, sparks flying where the cord is ripped from the socket, shattered glass strafing the carpet. It takes her a second to realize what has happened, to see the depth of his rage. She can't even respond, she just turns back for the bedroom, grabbing her pants off the floor and her overnight bag from the top shelf of the tiny closet, grabbing some underwear and a change of clothes from the dresser and her toothbrush from the vanity. He doesn't follow her, but is oddly quiet.

When she finally returns to the living room – dressed, with her overnight bag at 2:00 am - he doesn't even say anything to her. She grabs her purse and mutters a half-hearted, "I need to get away. I'll come back tomorrow when you're sober," and opens the door. When she looks back at him, there is pity in her eyes. She doesn't even tell him where she is going.

She returns with a bag of bagels the next morning, hat and sunglasses covering her trademark red hair, and finds him curled up on the couch, still fully clothed and passed out cold. The pieces of the lamp form a pile against the wall and she gingerly starts to pick up the larger shards. When she nicks herself on a corner, her "Oh shit" doesn't even garner a response. She sucks the wounded finger into her mouth, tasting the coppery blood and goes to the kitchen to rinse the cut. She looks out on the scene, empty whiskey bottle, broken lamp and shattered man, and realizes this will be the rest of her life. She loves this man, she really does, but she doesn't know if she can live her life this way. The tears that have been pricking the back of her eyes since the previous night finally squeeze out and she knows what she owes to herself.

Fifteen minutes later she is sobbing, packing again – her large suitcase this time. She doesn't know if she is leaving him or just leaving for now, but she knows she can't be here. She hears him stumble into the bedroom behind her – still drunk, but no longer angry.

"Ray, babe," he rasps, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She half winces and half melts into his familiar warmth. "I'm sorry," he whispers into her ear, his voice cracking. She feels his lips on the back of her neck.

"I brought bagels," she tells him matter-of-factly, leaning her head away from his kiss while continuing to fold the clothes in her suitcase.

"I'm so sorry," he repeats, his arms still around her. She can feel his breath catch against her back and realizes he is crying.

"Deacon, you're always sorry," she finally responds, turning in his arms. "I can't do this," she says. He looks broken, and backs away.

"You're leaving me?" he says, realization dawning on him. "Please, no," he begs. "Please." He drops to his knees in front of her, burying his head against her stomach.

"I can't live like this," she explains, her voice oddly steady. It is taking every fiber of strength she has to stay calm and she knows if she lets herself break in front of him, she will never have the willpower to leave.

"Please, Ray," he begs, his sobs muffled against the flannel shirt she is still wearing. "I'll do anything. Just don't leave. Don't leave me here alone."

"You scared me last night," she tells him softly, placing her hands on either side of his temples and forcing him to look her in the eyes before burying her fingers in his hair and stroking his scalp as she finally lets the tears run down her face.

"I'll do anything," he reiterates, "I love you. Meetings or rehab or whatever. Just please stay with me." He lifts the hem of her shirt to press a kiss to the soft skin above the waistline of her jeans. "I love you," he whispers again.

She closes her eyes, daring to let hope rise up the back of her throat as yesterday's stubble rasps against her belly. She wants to believe him, and maybe last night was the breaking point for him, too. Maybe her leaving last night has sent a strong enough message. As he slowly starts to move his kisses up her torso, unbuttoning her shirt as he goes, her love for him overtakes everything else she is feeling. Her answer is out of her mouth before she has a chance to think twice about it.

"**Okay. But it can never happen again." **

Later she will learn to use words like "codependent" and "enabler," but today all she feels is the relief that washes over her, his promises muffled against her skin.

Two days later she comes home to find him strumming a song she hasn't heard before, a song about quitting the bottle and coming home to the person you love. It's the first time she almost leaves him, but it won't be the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** They're still not mine.

2 - 1999

She starts seeing Teddy during Deacon's fourth stint in rehab. Before he leaves she has Coleman bring him by their favorite spot down by the river, and while Coleman waits in the car she holds his hand and tells him that she can't do this anymore. She explains that she loves him, but there are three parties in their relationship between him, her and his alcoholism; she suggests that maybe he needs to figure out where he stands with the one before he can deal with the other. After driving home and pouring herself an ironic glass of whiskey (the taste reminds her of him), she is awake sobbing over half the night.

So when Tandy suggests again that Rayna meet her friend Teddy, an upwardly mobile suit with political connections, Rayna is finally broken enough to agree. She had originally agreed to the date only to placate her sister; Deacon was persona non grata and Tandy had finally half-convinced her that maybe she deserved more for herself. But behind his stuffed-shirt exterior she finds that Teddy is considerate and affectionate and never takes her company for granted. He treats her with deference – and not the deference people usually use when interacting with celebrities, but the deference a gentleman should pay a lady. He calls when he says he will and has not once been late for a date. And while he doesn't stir up the fiery passion that Deacon always has, she finds the predictability and romance attractive nonetheless.

The first time they spend the night together, six weeks after Deacon has left, she actually finds herself crying in the bathroom of the expensive hotel suite Teddy has booked – the picture of romance down to the rose petals strewn on the bed - realizing that it is the first time she has felt cherished in almost eleven years. In a way, Teddy is teaching her to value herself as a woman.

Deacon is out of rehab two weeks later. She doesn't keep the date on her calendar, and he doesn't call her, so when she shows up for rehearsal and he is there, standing by an amp talking to Bucky, her breath leaves her in a giant whoosh. Not once during his stay did she receive so much as a postcard from him and while she realizes it is for the best, there is a part of her that misses him deeply. He is part of the fabric of who she is, and who she has always been. She steels herself with her typical armor – her best Southern Charm Smile with a "devil-may-care" tilt to her head - and approaches them, her confident stride belying the shakiness of her legs.

"Hey, how you doing?" she asks, placing her hand on his shoulder, and Bucky makes himself scarce as Deacon pulls her into a fierce hug. He holds on a little too long, and the familiar scent of him breaks her heart, but she pulls away and smiles brightly and just says, "Good to have you back."

"I missed you Ray," he half-whispers, his voice thick with emotion, but she just keeps smiling.

"It's good to see you doing so well," she answers.

That night she and Teddy have their first serious talk. She tells him more of her history than he probably wants to know, and she expects him to take the easy road – after all, what man wants to date a woman in love with someone else? – but when her steely demeanor cracks, he just puts his arms around her and pulls her into his chest, murmuring words of reassurance in her ear. She is more confused than ever when he starts kissing her neck.

Later that night as she feels Teddy's slow, even breathing spooned up against her bare back, she wonders if he really is too good for her.

As one week passes, and then two, and three, she begins to realize that Deacon has become the man she always knew he could be, the one she could see behind the anger and the drinking and the pills. He is clear-headed and bright-eyed, looking and playing better than he has in years. She can't help but wonder if it is finally their time, right now when she has found such an anchor in another man. When he walks her to her car that afternoon and asks her if he can take her to dinner she answers without hesitating. "Yes."

When he kisses her, she doesn't even try to stop him. It feels like coming home.

That evening she tells Teddy she needs some space to work out her feelings for him and her feelings for Deacon. Teddy doesn't give her his blessing, exactly, but he is mature enough to know that if he tries to hold too tightly it will backfire, so he lets her go.

The next night when Deacon comes to pick her up at their old house, they don't make it much past the front door. It is hot and primal and she has forgotten what it feels like to be so connected to someone else on every level. But as they lay twined in her bed, her thoughts stray to Teddy. When Deacon sees her pensive look and asks her about it, she tells him.

"Babe, I've got to be honest with you. "

"Yeah?" he asks, nuzzling her ear and clearly expecting her to tell him how much she's missed him, or say something truly filthy. Instead she just places her palm against his cheek and bites her lip.

"I've been seeing someone."

He is clearly shocked. "Like _seeing_ someone, seeing someone?" he asks, his eyes wide in hurt and disbelief. She just nods an affirmation. He pulls back and sits up on the side of the bed, stunned. She is expecting anger or yelling, but instead is met with silence.

"Deacon," she starts, but he cuts her off with a sharp look. The silence permeating the room is deafening.

"I've got to get out of here," he finally says quietly.

"Ok," she says softly, and then he is gone. She lies awake for hours until, in the middle of the night, she gets a call from Coleman that Deacon is at his place passed out drunk. She offers to come over and talk to him, to fix it, but Coleman's response hits her like a punch in the gut. "I think it's for the best if you keep some distance now, Rayna." She hangs up the phone and doubles over in a sob.

Six weeks later there is a pink stick. She doesn't think twice – she immediately picks up the phone and dials Teddy, who is at her house 20 minutes later. She explains the whole situation through hiccups and sobs, and while she can see the hurt in his eyes, he is nothing but kind to her, rubbing her back and assuring her it will all be OK.

"We don't know it's not my baby, do we?" he finally asks.

"I guess not," she replies.

"Then it's mine. We'll do a paternity test after it's born, but either way, it's mine." Years later, she will pinpoint this as the moment she fell in love with Teddy.

She nods her agreement. **"Deacon can never know."**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thanks again to my still-anonymous beta for encouraging me to take out some of the melodrama. But only some… For those of you who feel bad for Deacon: as I see it, as far as romantic heroes go, he's only holding onto that white horse by the tail. Time for him to own up to his baggage! Anyway, only thing that's mine is a half gallon of Blue Bell ice cream.

3 -2000

The fifth time Deacon gets out of rehab she is only two weeks from marrying Teddy. She hasn't spoken to him since the night he left her naked in bed, and she doesn't know what, if anything, he has heard about her present situation. Coleman let her know the date he would be coming home but in an effort to let him go once and for all, she hasn't asked about him.

The day of his homecoming is circled in red on her calendar and when it comes and goes in a blur of silver-wrapped gifts and discussions of flower arrangements, she is filled with something that feels a lot like relief.

That night as Teddy is at the bathroom sink getting ready for bed, she puts on a silky nightgown and sidles up behind her fiancé, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing the hollow between his bare shoulder blades. "Mmmm," he smiles at her in the mirror, "What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," she murmurs against his skin. "I just love you, is all." His smile widens as he turns to wrap his arms around her. As he kisses her, she is convinced she never felt safer in her life.

The next day reality comes crashing back down when Deacon shows up at her front door. He looks thin and tired as he greets her with a quiet, "Hey." She can feel the bones in his shoulders as he leans in to hug her. His eyes wander down to her noticeably rounded belly and he adds, "So I guess congratulations are in order."

"Yeah, well…" she trails off, not sure if he is actually offering said congratulations or not.

"I heard, but I wanted to see for myself," he adds.

Rayna nods and looks at the ground. The air between them is heavy with longing and a bit of regret, and she thinks this is the first time she has ever felt this awkward with him. He's supposed to be the love of her life, for crying out loud!

She knows she can't invite him in, so instead sits on the front step with him, shoulder to shoulder so she doesn't have to look him in the eye.

"So is that why you came?" she finally asks him, staring at a crack in the sidewalk. He is quiet for a long moment before responding. He shakes his head.

"I wanted to apologize to you. And thank you."

"Deacon, there's no need,-" she starts to protest but he cuts her off.

"Rayna, making amends is one of the steps," he says quietly.

She lets out a wounded sigh. "Step nine," she says, half chuckling and half crying. After all these years she knows them by heart.

"I hurt you more than anybody else, and I'm sorry. You were the only one there for me, and I kept on hurtin' you because I knew you'd always be there."

She takes a shuddering breath, trying to keep her composure, but she finds she can't quite hold in the tears. He goes to take her in his arms, but sees the flash of diamond on her hand and instead places a friendly hand on her back. Slowly, he rubs small circles. "Rayna, what's-"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," she cuts him off. "Years," she adds for emphasis. He just nods his head in understanding.

"Well, I am truly sorry," is all he can say.

"I know," she replies, getting her emotions under control and leaning against him. "It's just not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be." He nods again. The silence between them is thick with all the things they aren't saying.

"So you're really marrying him?" he finally asks.

She turns and meets his gaze, her eyes still bright with tears.

"Yes," she says confidently.

"Ray," he starts, but she silences him with a hand on his arm.

"Teddy Conrad is a good man. He'll make a good husband and wonderful father." She parrots Tandy's words, letting the implications about Deacon's own suitability hang in midair.

"He's everything you thought I couldn't be," he finishes for her. She neither confirms nor denies his assumption.

"Do you love him? Deacon finally asks.

She looks at him now, sees him close his eyes in preparation for the blow he knows is coming. In this moment, she is surprised by how easily the truth comes to her.

"I do," she says quietly.

"And me?" he finally asks, "Do you love me?"

She takes a long moment before responding. "That's not the point, Deacon." She can't meet his eyes.

"You didn't answer my question. Do you still love me?" he asks, placing his hand on her face and turning her chin towards him to meet his gaze. She knows the implications what she might say could have, and she offers up a silent prayer.

"**No," she lies. "Not anymore."**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** A short update for your reading agony. Nothing is mine except the angst.

4 - 2001

After the wedding, it is nearly a year before she sees Deacon again. While technically he is still in her band, her tour is on hold while she adjusts to life as a newlywed and then - a mere few months later - a mother, so she hasn't seen any of the crew since before her wedding.

At first she is concerned that she doesn't hear from him, but Coleman has explained that the best way for him to get better is for her to give him space. Besides, as much as she wants to see him, she knows it is easier for both of them if he keeps his distance. She checks in regularly with Cole, though, just to find out how he's doing; when she continues to receive positive reports she feels a selfish pang in her gut wondering if maybe being away from her is what he really needed all this time.

Her days and nights pass in a blur of feedings and diaper changes, a routine where she and Teddy are a team. During these first hazy months it is easy to pretend that everything is okay, that Teddy is all she could ever want. After all, it's hard not to love someone who gets up in the middle of the night with a screaming baby he knows isn't his just to buy you two extra hours of sleep. It is only in her time alone, in the time it is just her and Maddie looking up at her at 3:00 am with his eyes, that she lets herself miss him so much it hurts.

Once upon a time she imagined doing this with him, getting married and raising a baby, and while she knows the man sleeping in the next room is the best husband and father to Maddie that she could ever ask for, she still feels the longing sting of what might have been.

It is a Tuesday when she runs into him, remarkable only in the fact that Maddie's sudden colic and Teddy's last-minute business trip mean she hasn't slept in three nights. She has a meeting at the label, some corporate bigwigs have flown in from New York for the day and there is no chance to reschedule. Sans babysitter, she dabs concealer on the dark circles under her eyes, packs Maddie's diaper bag and fastens her in the car, hoping a receptionist or assistant can watch her during the meeting.

Walking down the hall toward the executive conference room, baby in tow, she sees Deacon before he sees her. It takes her by surprise - he isn't usually involved in this business side of things and Bucky hasn't told her that he would be part of the tour meeting. Her heart leaps to her throat, but her legs keep moving forward. Maddie lets out a sleepy whimper and he turns, the surprise in his eyes mirroring her own.

"Hey," she says softly.

"Ray…" he whispers, the corner of his mouth not quite curling to a smile. He starts to hug her, but the carrier is in the way so he settles for a hand on her shoulder. She sets Maddie down at her feet and hugs him for real.

"How you 'doin?" she asks the side of his hair, not quite ready to let him go.

"I'm good," he says confidently, releasing her, and she sees a strength in his eyes that hasn't been there before. "How 'bout you? Is that…?" he trails off, looking down at the wide-eyed baby in the carrier.

"This is Maddie," she smiles, bending down to pick her – their - baby up. Her heart breaks behind her smile as Deacon places a hand on the back of her peach fuzz hair. "Maddie," she continues, "This is your Uncle Deacon."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," Deacon laughs. And then, more quietly, he adds, "She's gorgeous, Ray." After a beat he smiles and admits, "She's you." She half-heartedly dodges the compliment but as she looks back and forth between them, she doesn't know how he doesn't see the resemblance. How does he not sense that this child is part of him, shares the very essence of who he is?

"I don't know," Rayna finally responds. **"I think she's just like her Daddy."**

Deacon just grunts out an uncomfortable-sounding laugh, and she busies herself bending down and securing Maddie in her car seat again to hide the tears pricking the back of her eyes.

"Good seeing you," she says softly, standing up to face him.

"Yeah," he responds, his hand suddenly heavy on her arm. "See you around."

It is the first day she feels the full weight of the secret she is carrying.


End file.
